Chapter Text
Dr Rico gives her okay for Erwin to travel by plane; after confirming yet another time that their baby—their little boy—is fine.
Erwin doesn’t know where they’re going until they are checking in at the airport. And then it makes sense. All of what Levi’s told him before.
“Don’t get too excited, we’re not going to the Bahamas.”
“Pack warm clothes. Like, super warm clothes.”
“And then some more warm clothes.”
The ticket he’s holding says: Reykjavík.
“We’re going to Iceland?!” he whispers, as Levi gently guides him towards the safety check, carrying both of their winter coats and insisting to carry Erwin’s backpack too.
“I told you not to get too excited.”
“Iceland is exciting, Levi!” Erwin argues, heartbeat a little bit faster, adrenaline pumping slowly through his veins. “The landscapes are one of the most beautiful in the whole wide world! There are so many wonderful hiking paths and—”
“You’re definitely not going on a hike in Iceland in the middle of winter while pregnant with my son,” Levi scoffs while pulling Erwin gently along—and the omega’s heart skips a beat.
Every acknowledging comment of Levi does that to him. Every time the alpha speaks of their child, of Erwin’s pregnancy, of his son, it does something to Erwin. Still.
“I’m still happy we’re going to Iceland,” Erwin answers, smiling when Levi shoots him a glance. And ah, Levi’s mellow scent drifts over to him then, and makes Erwin’s smile widen. So does the very shallow blush spreading across Levi’s porcelain skin as he continues to guide Erwin through the mildly crowded airport and pushes people—gently but firmly—out of their way, hissing, “Be careful, please, he’s pregnant!”, at some of them in his gentle protective alpha mode.
Erwin’s started to show. Not the huge roundness yet, but definitely visible. If not hidden under thick sweaters.
He catches himself staring at the reflection of his stomach in the bathroom after the shower, or the bedroom while changing. Catches Levi staring too, with awe and that certain pride fathers-to-be tend to have. Erwin’s palms wander to the slightly growing belly more and more each day. It’s almost automatic by now. It happens on the plane too, where Erwin watches Levi with a calming warmth spreading through his chest. The alpha sits rigidly beside him, jaw tight, shoulders tense every time the aircraft shifts or hums differently. Levi hates flying, and yet he’s here. He booked this. He boarded this metal deathtrap—Levi’s own words—voluntarily.
For Erwin. For their vacation. For their son.
That knowledge settles somewhere deep in Erwin’s bones, a quiet, glowing certainty that this trip already means more than Levi’s willing to admit.
They land in Reykjavík under a pale grey sky that looks freshly washed, the air crisp.
“It’s beautiful,” Erwin murmurs, breath fogging slightly as they step outside. “I love how the mountains just rise straight out of the sea like that.” But Levi isn’t really listening; he’s focused, scanning their surroundings, navigating them through the airport.
“Yeah. Mountains. Cold. Slippery ground. Watch your step,” he mutters, maneuvering Erwin toward the taxi queue with a protective hand at the small of his back.
Inside the taxi, Erwin tries again. “So. What’s the plan? Northern Lights? Whale watching? Hot springs? Hiking—”
“No hiking,” Levi repeats flatly.
“Fine. Then… what?”
Levi shrugs, then flatly says: “I booked us the finest themed hotel Reykjavík has to offer. Viking cosplay is mandatory. Or we can go to that sex dungeon tour you mentioned once. No wait, that was the dick museum.”
“I never—”
“Sure you didn’t.”
Erwin rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. Levi’s misdirection is almost suspiciously obvious, which only makes Erwin more curious.
Their hotel turns out to be exactly the kind Levi prefers: not flashy, not expensive, but spacious, spotless, and warm, with thick wool blankets and soft lighting that makes the room feel like a cocoon against the cold outside. It’s cosy, and elegant in its own way—hyggelig by the Scandinavian book. The view faces a quiet street not far from the waterfront promenade, where Erwin can already see a sliver of the steel-grey sea.
They unpack a little, with Levi fussing too much over Erwin lifting anything heavier than a sock, before the alpha suggests they go outside, find some lunch, “get a feel for the place” before it turns dark, as it does quickly in winter in Iceland. And so they do.
They walk down towards the waterfront, where Erwin stops in front of Harpa, Reykjavík’s famous glass concert hall. Its façade is made of hundreds of geometric panels that catch the light in shifting colours. Erwin presses his fingers to the cool glass and takes in the sheer scale of it, the way the structure seems to glow from within. Levi stands beside him, pretending to be unimpressed, but Erwin catches him raising his phone to take a picture anyway—subtle, quick, as though he doesn’t want to be caught caring.
They wander up a big street next, sharing a cone of freshly fried cod bites from a small stand Levi claims is “ridiculously overpriced for fish”, though he buys two more portions anyway.
Erwin lingers at the windows of shops selling hand-knit Icelandic sweaters, tracing patterns with his eyes and imagining the warmth. Levi pulls him gently away before he can decide he needs an entire suitcase of wool.
In a cosy little bookshop, Erwin drifts straight to the history shelves, fingertips brushing over titles he’s never seen before. Levi disappears for a moment and returns with a postcard Erwin had admired without saying so. He places it in Erwin’s hand with a small, embarrassed grunt and immediately looks away.
They walk a little more, streets illuminated by the Christmas lamps as the light is beginning to fade, and that’s when Levi’s guidance becomes more purposeful. Less wandering, more leading. Erwin realises only gradually that Levi is steering him toward a particular building—big, bright, clean-lined.
The National Museum of Iceland.
Erwin’s heart rate increases.
He hasn’t been to a museum for far too long.
His lips stretch into a smile as they continue to walk.
Inside the foyer, Erwin inhales that unmistakable smell of polished floors, old paper, and silence, that gentle hush unique to big museums. He relaxes instantly, the way he always does in these spaces.
Then, he sees the banner. Directly ahead, suspended above the entrance to one of the galleries, hangs a massive poster:
THE SECRETS OF THE WALLS: Newly Restored Manuscripts from the Lost Age.
Erwin’s gaze lifts. The letters sharpen. And then it clicks.
He goes completely still.
The words hit him with a force he cannot name. His breath stops halfway out of his lungs. And then he remembers: He knew about this exhibition…! Months ago, before everything collapsed, before blood and grief and revelations and pregnancy and fear stole all the space in his head, he’d read the announcement in an academic newsletter. He’d bookmarked it. He’d planned to drag Levi with him. He’d joked to Hange about queueing overnight if he had to.
This was supposed to be his event of the year. His dream exhibit. A once-in-a-lifetime glimpse into the mysteries he had built half his career on.
Then everything happened. And he forgot. More than forgot—he quietly filed it away under Not For Me Anymore, because the chaos had taken over. One more thing he let go of because his head was occupied with his reality suddenly breaking apart.
The shock of that realisation steals his breath clean out of his chest. And then the second shock comes:
Levi didn’t forget. Levi brought him here. Levi remembered the old Erwin who would obsess over an exhibition like this. Over this exhibition in particular.
Erwin turns to look at him.
Levi is doing an intentionally poor job of pretending this is no big deal. His posture is stiff, his eyes a little too neutral, hands shoved into the pockets of his coat like he’s holding himself together through sheer force of will. And something inside Erwin breaks open—in the soft, and very, very good way—because Levi didn’t just plan a surprise. He resurrected a part of Erwin’s identity. A part Erwin thought he’d lost forever. A part he thought he no longer deserved to want.
Erwin swallows, unable to speak.
Levi shifts, pretending to study a nearby pamphlet.
And Erwin realises, with a slow, swelling ache of love in his chest, that whatever happens next, this moment marks a turning point. Because Levi didn’t just remember this exhibition. He remembered Erwin.
“Levi…” Erwin murmurs.
“Come on,” the alpha says, “let’s get rid of our coats and…. take a look around.”
They walk through a dark corridor on their way into the exhibition. The light grows dim. Their footsteps soften, the sounds around them fading away. Only the soft glow of the display cases and panels shows them where to go.
Erwin feels his pulse slow down, his mind automatically slipping into the familiar shape of research and unfiltered curiosity. The first introductory texts line the walls—information about early Paradis, the Walls period itself, the early fragments recovered from what scholars once called the Basement Papers—written in the dry, formal language of museum curators. He reads, and something twists sharply inside his chest. Some of the phrasing is achingly familiar. Too familiar.
His gaze drifts from one panel to the next, and there it is: a quote lifted straight from one of his own articles. Then another. And then a small text box on the wall referencing “E. Smith, 20XX” as a key scholar on lost Basement records.
Erwin goes still. A strange, vertigo-like sensation washes over him—his name, his life’s work, woven into the fabric of an exhibit he never thought he’d see. His field. His obsession. His contribution immortalised on a wall.
He flicks a glance at Levi—and finds Levi watching him, not the displays. Watching him closely.
Levi’s expression is unreadable at first, all tight lines and controlled breathing, except for the faint tension around his eyes. And Erwin realises, with a small shock of tenderness, that Levi is nervous about how he’ll react. Nervous that this might be too much. Nervous that Erwin might break. So Erwin smiles at him. Truly smiles.
“You look a little like a mad man,” Levi comments flatly, lips pulled into a thin smirk.
Erwin snorts. The giddiness bursting out of him in that sound that is just a little too loud for a museum. “I am a mad man. And I love it. And I love you, thank you so much for bringing me here.” He takes a few quick steps towards his alpha, grabs Levi by his upper arms and nearly shakes him when he repeats, “Thank you, Levi…!”
Levi chuckles. He looks relieved. Moved. “Get on with it, professor, there’s still more to see. Also, you’re hurting my arms.”
“Oh,” Erwin lets go of Levi, “my bad.”
Levi rolls his eyes, smiling.
They step around the corner into the main gallery—and Erwin’s world narrows to a single point. Under soft preservation lights, behind glass, arranged with clinical care, lie the cornerstone pieces. His gaze lands instantly on the first label:
Recovered Basement Journal of Grundar Jäger, ca. 830. Translation incomplete.
The words seize his lungs. He stops breathing for a second. Then, Erwin moves without thinking—one step, then another—until he’s standing directly before the case, the rest of the room blurring. All he can see is the cracked leather binding, the uneven grain of the old paper, the looping handwriting he has only ever glimpsed in grainy reproductions, photocopies, poor scans in academic archives, if at all. And now it’s here.
It’s real.
Right in front of him.
His hand lifts, hovers just shy of the glass. He doesn’t touch it—he knows he shouldn’t—but his breath fogs the surface anyway. His fingers tremble. He thinks—helplessly, fiercely—of every late night spent pondering over obscure references to this journal, every seminar where he speculated on its possible further contents, every argument he had with colleagues about its authenticity, every moment he mourned it as lost to time. Then the shock years ago when it resurfaced in a private collection. The frustration when it vanished again into a restricted archive for restoration. The resignation that he would never, ever see it in his lifetime.
And now it’s here. Right in front of him. Tangible and whole. A piece of the past he built his academic life around.
Behind him, Levi goes very still. He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t reach out. He doesn’t interrupt. He just stands there, steady and present, close enough that Erwin can feel him.
Next to the journal, another glass case catches Erwin’s eye—a small, carefully lit square of time sealed behind protective glass. The label calls it the earliest known photograph from the Walls period, a primitive image thought to show Grundar, his wife Dina, and their child standing between them.
Erwin tears his gaze away from the journal and sees the photo. The world tilts again, softer this time, but no less vicious.
He steps closer. The photograph is imperfect, edges faded, the centre slightly warped, but the details still hit him straight in the chest. Dina’s steady, almost defiant gaze. Grundar’s tired mouth, pulled into something like hope. And the little kid’s jaw, stubborn even in a still image, standing with the kind of rigid pride only children have.
And suddenly it hits him—sharply, painfully—that these were people. Actual people. Not myths. Not footnotes. Not subjects in an article he once picked apart line by line. They were a family. They lived, they argued, they loved, they held each other, they posed for a camera on some ordinary day, never knowing their faces would end up behind glass centuries later for strangers to study.
His throat closes up. A hot, overwhelming mix of awe and shame and wonder floods him. I wrote about them like a theory, he thinks. Like a puzzle. And here they are. Real. And I’m standing in their future.
Behind him, Levi shifts closer, voice low and careful, as though he’s afraid of breaking the moment. “That the famous photo?” he murmurs. And Erwin knows—Levi read about it. For him. To understand what this is. What it means.
Erwin can’t speak. He just nods, slowly, eyes burning as he keeps looking at the faces of a family long lost to time.
He forces himself to move on, even if leaving the photograph feels like tearing himself away from something alive. The next display waits only a few steps away: a partially burned map, its edges singed, the centre warped by age. The label explains that it’s believed to show an external territory—names like Slava and Hizuru noted only tentatively, with cautious question marks. Modern cartographers have compared the shapes to known coastlines, but nothing fits. Continents have shifted since then, after the obliteration, the big bang, oftentimes referred to as the Rumbling by historians; the event that caused a massive extinction of the human race, its cultures, its invention and forced humanity to begin anew. That event, which—according to biologists and historians alike—led to human evolution and the emergence of secondary genders.
Erwin leans in anyway, tracing the strokes with his eyes, letting the familiar names echo through his head. He’s seen scans of this map, grainy black-and-white reproductions photocopied a hundred times too often—but standing here, in front of the actual parchment, the ink still visible beneath the scorch marks… it feels entirely different. It feels personal. Immediate. Like history breathing against the glass.
Beside it sits a case of Restorationist pamphlets—thin sheets of paper so fragile he wonders how the museum staff even handled them. Some pages are full of cramped notes, others show rough sketches in the margins. There are manifesto fragments. Slogans. Lines scribbled out and rewritten. A few coded passages, barely decipherable.
Erwin reads everything he can, moving slowly from one piece to the next. He knows most of these words already—quoted in articles, reconstructed by scholars, debated endlessly in conferences—but seeing them here, in their original handwriting, with the faded ink and uneven pressure of the pen… it takes his breath away.
It’s the real deal. Not a transcript. Not a carefully edited academic edition. Just raw history, exactly as it was left behind.
The original.
He circles the display once. Then again. And a third time, unable to help himself. Levi watches him do it, leaning against the nearest wall with his arms loosely crossed, a small, helpless smile tugging at his mouth. Erwin barely notices; he’s swallowed whole by the moment.
They move on, stepping into a section filled with fragments of Wallist religious texts. A devotional scroll with its edges crumbling. A carved wooden symbol that may have hung in a temple or home—no one truly knows. The museum label offers gentle suggestions, careful not to overstate anything. These aren’t earth-shattering discoveries; they’re just precious glimpses into how people once lived, once believed, once tried to understand their world. How, even back then, men and women of belief became tools of politics.
And then, tucked almost shyly into a corner, he spots a small rusted key. Plain. Unremarkable. Labelled simply as “function unknown”.
Erwin stands in front of it far longer than he means to, imagining all the possibilities.
A chest? A drawer? A hidden room? Something important? Something trivial?
There’s something heartbreakingly human about it—an object meant for a lock that no longer exists, a purpose lost to time.
He’s still pondering when they move on and Erwin spots the next artifact.
Tucked into a side case—small enough that most people might walk past it—is a torn piece of green fabric. Nothing dramatic, nothing arranged to draw attention. Just a scrap of cloth laid flat under glass, edges worn down by time. But when Erwin comes closer, the light catches the stitching. Faded. Frayed. But still there. Still recognisable.
The label reads:
“Fragment of a Survey Corps cloak, Wings of Freedom insignia. Military division active during the Walls period.”
Erwin’s breath catches. His heart kicks against his ribs. Hard.
He steps right up to the glass, leaning in until the cold surface almost touches his forehead. The threads are barely holding together, colours washed out after centuries—but the wings are unmistakable. One white, one blue, crossed. Carved into the fabric like a memory that refused to die.
His hand finds the edge of the display case and grips it, knuckles bleaching.
For everyone else in this museum, this is just a relic. A symbol tied to old stories and scattered records. For him, it hits like a blow straight to the chest.
And then, before he can stop it, something strange happens.
Images push into his mind—sharp, bright, too vivid to belong to any textbook he has read.
A soldier in a green cloak landing hard on a rooftop.
The snap of cables firing.
A hiss tearing through the air. A roar.
Wind tearing at fabric as someone races forward.
A row of bodies covered in snow.
A commander with ice-blue eyes raising his fist high, shouting to charge.
The wings of freedom flapping behind him like they’re alive.
They are not the polished illustrations found in academic books.
They are not diagrams or reconstructions.
They feel like… memories.
Except they can’t be.
Erwin’s throat tightens.
I know this. Why do I know this?
His pulse hammers.
For a second, the room feels too small. Too bright. Too familiar.
The museum text beside the case explains calmly that the Survey Corps were one of the best-documented military units of their era, known for dangerous long-distance operations beyond the Walls. A footnote mentions debates about their true purpose. Scholars still argue.
But none of that matters.
Erwin doesn’t need the explanation.
He knows these wings.
Not from reading.
Not from study.
But from somewhere he can’t name.
It feels like standing at a graveside.
Like someone is watching him back from the other side of history.
Levi shifts behind him, stepping close enough that his warmth cuts through the chill running down Erwin’s spine. “You okay?” he asks quietly, voice rough in a way that makes it clear he’s been holding the question in.
Erwin nods, even though his eyes are burning. “Yes,” he whispers, barely managing the word.
And as he stands there, staring at the faded wings, he feels something old and deep stir inside him—an echo he can’t explain, a pull he can’t ignore.
A feeling that some stories don’t stay buried.
They return.
In pieces.
In fragments.
In lives that begin anew
Time slips away from him after that.
He doesn’t even notice when the next hour passes, or the one after that. He moves from display to display with a kind of focused hunger, reading every plaque, rereading the ones that say too little, photographing labels, taking notes on his phone even though his hands are beginning to ache. Some exhibitions blur together, some hit him so hard he has to stand still for a moment just to breathe.
At some point Levi disappears without a word and returns with a cup of decaf coffee and a sandwich, placing both into Erwin’s free hand before stepping aside again. Erwin murmurs a distracted thank you, eyes never leaving the panel he’s studying. He doesn’t look away until Levi has already settled back against the wall, keeping a respectful distance, guiding other visitors around Erwin with quiet gestures and the occasional stern look.
And through all of it—every text he reads, every scrap of ink or cloth or paper—the images from that green cloak linger at the edges of his mind. The wings. The flashes that didn’t come from books. The strange, impossible instinct that he shouldn’t know them so well. They stay with him, ghosting behind his thoughts, as though waiting for him to turn around and face them properly.
He moves deeper into the exhibition, shoulders tense with excitement, mind burning bright. He hasn’t felt this alive in years. His body aches a little from standing, yes, but his mind—his mind is on fire.
At one point he forces himself to step back from a display and finally looks at Levi—who is leaning against a pillar nearby, arms crossed, eyes soft, posture unmistakably protective. Levi isn’t even pretending to look at the artefacts. He’s simply watching Erwin with an expression that makes Erwin’s chest go warm and tight.
Something inside Erwin shifts then—quietly but unmistakably.
His scent changes too. He can feel it, that subtle hum in his skin, the soft bloom of warmth in his chest. Excitement. Joy. Belonging. Whatever it is, Levi reacts instantly. His shoulders drop a fraction, the tension easing out of them; his eyes soften further, going warm in a way that Erwin feels like a touch.
And still, underneath everything—the thrill, the awe, the academic obsession—those half-formed memories cling to him.
The wings. The rooftop. The snow.
The shadows of a life he never lived, yet somehow remembers. They follow him through the gallery like quiet footsteps just out of sight. Levi’s gaze tracks him gently, always close enough to catch him if he should fall
Eventually the crowds begin to thin. The lights feel softer now, almost dimmer, and the air grows heavy with late afternoon quiet. A staff member walks past and lets them know the museum will close in an hour. Erwin blinks at that—he hadn’t noticed the time at all. His feet ache, his throat is dry, and he realises he has spent most of the day muttering under his breath at every display, completely lost in another world.
Levi watches him sway a little and suggests a break. They head to the museum café, where Levi orders for both of them because Erwin is still somewhere in the year 830, mind spinning with old names and faded ink. They sit down with hot drinks and something simple to eat, and as soon as Erwin takes a sip of another decaf coffee, the words come pouring out. He can’t help it. He talks about every artefact, every tiny detail, every crack in a display case he noticed. He talks with his hands, excited, glowing in a way Levi hasn’t seen in a long time.
And Levi just listens. Chin resting on his hand, eyes on Erwin the whole time. There’s a soft pride there, warm and steady.
When the café starts to empty, they decide to go back in for one last look before closing. The gallery is almost silent now, nearly empty. The air feels heavier, full of all the things Erwin hasn’t said, all the emotions he hasn’t dared to put into words.
He walks back to the display of the Survey Corps cloak—the faded scrap of green, the barely-there wings—and stands in front of it again. The glass catches the light just enough to show their reflections. Erwin sees himself first: eyes still bright, shoulders broad. And behind him stands Levi, small, steady, unmoving, a constant presence at his back.
And then it hits him—harder this time, clearer.
More of those strange memory-like flashes that aren’t memories at all, but feel too real to ignore.
He sees them both reflected not in glass, but in places that shouldn’t exist in this life. Levi behind him in a green cloak. Levi at his side on a rooftop, wind tearing at fabric. Levi in a cramped, run-down office, rolling a glass of whiskey between his palms. Levi standing with him in rubble, in smoke, in silence.
Always them. Always together. In battle, in grief, in the quiet moments between.
His breath shakes. The world around him flickers for a heartbeat.
“Erwin,” Levi says quietly. A hand lands on his shoulder, steady and warm, and gently turns him away from the glass. The moment their eyes meet, the visions vanish like smoke. Gone. Just like that. All that remains is peace. And happiness. And love.
“Are you okay?” Levi asks, concern softening his voice.
Erwin exhales, a small smile forming despite everything. “Yeah,” he whispers, nodding. “Just… tired. Let’s… Let’s get back to the hotel… captain.” Erwin has no idea why he said it. Has no idea why it feels… right.
Levi raises his brow in clear amusement. “Is that supposed to be the nickname retaliation you threatened me with, Winnie?” he teases him.
Erwin can’t help but huff out a laugh. “No, I don’t… Yeah, uh, I don’t know what that was. Sorry.”
Levi tilts his head, smiles softly. “The exhibition’s messing with you.”
“Probably.”
“Let’s go, babe. Get some rest.”
Levi squeezes his shoulder once, guides him toward the exit, and Erwin leans into him without thinking, the weight of the day settling over him in a way that feels safe.
They order room service for dinner and eat at the small dining table by the artificial fireplace, the soft orange glow warming the whole room and making everything feel even cosier than it already is. Erwin feels wrung out but peaceful. Happy. Relaxed. They talk a little—but mostly it’s just Erwin gushing about the exhibition and Levi smiling at him.
When they finish eating, Levi wheels the cart into the hallway, airs out the room like he always does, and then joins Erwin on the couch with two mugs of freshly brewed tea. The alpha takes a slow sip, sets his mug down, and then finally says it.
“So… Was it worth the flight?” he tries to make it sound casual, but Erwin hears the strain beneath it—the hope, the fear that this might not have been enough, the quiet desperation of someone who cares far too much. “We can go to the whale museum tomorrow. Or check out the nature. With a little walk, not hike.”
Erwin chuckles. “Sounds good to me. And, Levi,” he turns to him fully, “it was more than worth it. You gave me the one thing I thought I’d never see in my life.”
There. The flicker. Vulnerable and real. Levi’s eyes drop for a second, his jaw tightening and loosening like he’s bracing against something.
“...Good,” he mutters. “I knew you wanted to see this badly. I just… I just want you to be happy, Erwin.”
That’s when it happens.
Quiet. Certain. Bone-deep.
Erwin knows.
He’s known before. But now… Now, it truly settles.
Not someday. Not just before the baby’s born next year. Not after the next crisis.
But now.
He wants to bond now. With Levi. With the alpha who looked at Erwin’s oldest obsession and didn’t laugh or shy away or treat it as a phase—but honoured it. Respected it. Brought it back to life.
He doesn’t say the words. Not yet. But he reaches for Levi’s hand, threading their fingers together, holding tightly. Because he knows that they will be leaving Iceland as a bonded couple.
Levi startles for half a heartbeat, then squeezes back, grip warm and sure.
This is it, Erwin thinks. This is the future. The ghosts can rest. The walls are history. I am not.
He’s still lost in that thought when Levi suddenly leans in.
Not for a kiss. But to sniff him.
His nose brushes the side of Erwin’s neck, right over his secondary scent gland. He inhales once, sharply. His eyes darken. He inhales again, slower this time, deeper, like the scent drags him forward by instinct alone.
“Your scent has changed,” Levi says quietly, voice low and rough. “It’s… sweeter.”
Erwin’s breath catches. “Oh, uh—pregnancy sometimes does that.”
“Yeah,” Levi breathes out, “it’s been there for a couple days now, but somehow… it’s much stronger now.”
He’s moving closer as he speaks, crowding in, probably without even noticing, his hands sliding under Erwin’s shirt with slow, sure intent. His hot palms find Erwin’s bare skin, and he exhales against his throat like he’s been starving for this, nosing along Erwin’s scent gland again, deeper this time, the sound he makes impossibly soft but low, and definitely vibrating through Erwin’s skin, making him shiver. And it’s that kind of shiver that runs down his spine and settles warm deep down inside of him.
Levi breathes him in again, longer this time, more needy, more affected, and suddenly the room feels dangerously small. It’s then that Levi’s mouth finds Erwin’s gland before the blond can even lift a hand. A kiss first—warm and careful—then his wet tongue drags slowly along the sensitive skin, tasting him, savouring him.
His hand, meanwhile, slides over Erwin’s stomach in a steady, gentle sweep, before moving further up, fingers tracing every inch with aching restraint until they reach Erwin’s chest, glide over his hardening nipple, adding yet another shiver to slither down Erwin’s spine. The other hand settles on Erwin’s hip, warm and grounding. Levi presses lightly, guiding him, tilting him, urging him to lean back. And Erwin lets him. Like he always does.
Levi moves him with quiet insistence, never rough, never careless, applying just enough pressure that Erwin understands exactly where he wants him without making it feel forced.
The couch dips, and Erwin finds himself lowered onto his back, his body easing into the cushions, breath catching as Levi follows. One of his alpha’s knees slots between Erwin’s slightly parted thighs, not fully touching—just close enough that Erwin feels the warmth and strength waiting there. Levi’s pupils are blown wide, his moist lips parted, his breathing uneven in a way that sends heat straight through Erwin’s core, arousal starting to build, to pool deep in his gut.
Before Erwin can say a word, Levi lowers himself further—not for a kiss, not yet—but straight into the other side of Erwin’s throat. His face presses into Erwin’s scent gland there too, with sudden, overwhelming hunger. He inhales sharply, body leaning in, though even now he’s careful, shifting his weight so he presses along Erwin’s side instead of into his belly from above.
“Oh God,” Levi moans, the sound raw, almost unsteady as he noses and licks at the gland, his hot breath tickling Erwin’s throat. “You smell so fucking sweet, it’s making me lose my mind.”
His teeth graze skin gently, testing and then Levi’s pheromones bloom. A wave of warmth, sharp and rich and heavy, fills the room, until Erwin feels it deep in his nerves, Levi’s scent spiking so hard it’s all Erwin can sense.
Smoke. Leather. Asphalt. Autumn leaves. A hint of amber, laced with spice and oil.
It curls low in his stomach, spreads heat through his chest. His breath stutters. His fingers curl into Levi’s shirt without thinking.
His groin stirs.
And in that instant he realises: This is the first time—since everything blew apart, since their reunion, since they came back to each other—that Levi has touched him like this. Smelled him like this. Wanted him like this. And God, he missed it. Missed him. Missed this feeling—Levi’s body over his, Levi’s breath on his throat, Levi trying and failing to hold himself back.
Levi exhales again against Erwin’s skin, voice low and shaking with need.
“Erwin… you’re driving me crazy.”
His hands tighten, guiding, urging, ready for more—waiting for permission, even in the haze. And Erwin gives it gladly.
“Do you want to move to bed?” he asks.
“...yes,” comes the clipped response, with Levi already moving off of Erwin, fingers winding around his wrist to pull him up onto his shaky legs. Even in that state, Levi’s not in a hurry. He’s not taking his time either, guiding Erwin through their room in that silence that’s filled with that sort of tension that makes the blond man’s heart hammer wonderfully against his ribs.
Levi turns to look at him, once they reach their kingsized dream of soft mattresses and fluffy cushions. The alpha’s eyes are wild with lust when their gazes meet, his look so intense, it makes adrenaline and arousal shoot through Erwin’s every vein with so much power that Erwin’s sure his legs might give out at any second.
“Erwin,” Levi begins again, voice low, almost hoarse. “I need you to know something.”
“...what?” Erwin manages to whisper after a beat of silence, a beat of intense staring, a beat of Levi’s pheromones, of his strong and potent alpha scent curling around him, weaving him into a cocoon of lust.
He’s hard. So very, very hard.
“If you get onto that bed… I will fuck you.”
Erwin swallows around the lump in his throat, a cascade of shivers now chasing down his spine, unloading in his nether region; his cock jumping, moisture forming around his ass cheeks.
“...okay.”
“I’m not going to stop,” Levi emphasises, voice still low, dangerous. But Erwin can see how his hands tremble slightly. How his jaw is tight. How his nostrils are flaring. How his whole body is moving with every deep inhale. How his sweetened scent is making Levi step deeper and deeper into the hot pool of arousal. “I won’t be able to stop,” Levi adds, clarifying, tenser now.
Erwin’s brows furrow. For a second, something like fear flashes across his being.
“...you’re… you’re not going into rut, are you?”
A break.
Then, Levi’s brow furrow. For a second, he seems to snap out of his haze. “What? Erwin—no. If I was, do you think I’d still be here and not running to the other side of this fucking island?!”
Erwin chuckles. “Okay, sorry, I just—”
Levi cuts him off by suddenly grabbing his wrist and pulling Erwin against his body, knocking the air out of his lungs.
“I’m just fucking horny, that’s all…” Levi murmurs, before pushing Erwin down to sit on the edge of the bed. “It’s your fucking scent,” he keeps talking, hands shaking lightly as he reaches for the hem of the omega's shirt. Erwin lifts his arms to assist, his own heart racing with anticipation, watching Levi toss the piece of fabric carelessly to the ground, his eyes immediately drawn to the small, rounded swell of Erwin’s pregnant belly. “It’s growing,” he whispers, suddenly getting down onto his knees, spreading Erwin’s legs further apart, settling between them.
He touches it with both of his hands, presses a kiss onto the spot right next to Erwin’s belly button. Then, he’s inhaling again.
“Fuck,” Levi breathes out, eyes drifting a tiny bit lower, “your smell down here is different, too.”
Erwin’s face heats up. A deep blush crawls over his cheeks, down his neck, spreading across his chest like his body is betraying him. And for a moment—just a moment—embarrassment stabs through the haze.
Is this even okay? He wonders. To want this so badly while carrying their child. To ache for Levi’s hands, Levi’s mouth, Levi’s weight, Levi’s cock. Shouldn’t he be ashamed? Shouldn’t he be gentler, more careful, more… something?
The thought barely forms before Levi leans forward and presses his head right into Erwin’s crotch, dragging his nose along the outline of Erwin’s erect dick while releasing a deep and oh-so pleased sound of contentment and want. And whatever doubt Erwin had—it simply burns away in that instant.
His mind goes blank.
All thought disappears.
His omega instincts push to the front, sharp and hungry and overwhelming, making it impossible to feel anything except Levi and need, and the sweet, dizzying rush of being wanted like this.
“Fuck, Erwin,” Levi growls, his voice low and rough, more hot air against Erwin’s cock trapped underneath too much fabric, as he reaches for the button of Erwin’s pants. “Your scent is driving me batshit crazy.”
Erwin just nods, a heated rush of want rolling through him as he watches Levi work to undress him. The alpha is impatient, almost feral in his movements, but he is still careful not to hurt Erwin or their unborn child.
He slides Erwin’s trousers down his legs, then pulls them off entirely, along with his underwear, socks, everything, stripping him bare with quick but gentle movements. Once Erwin is fully naked, Levi takes a step back, chest rising and falling, his gaze sweeping over him in a way that makes Erwin’s skin prickle.
Levi’s pheromones tickle something inside of him too, making that searing arousal spread further, fill every crevice of his body; making Erwin lean back on the bed, spread his legs, putting himself—his hard cock, his heavy balls, his wet asshole—on display. He doesn’t even think about it—his body moves on instinct, wanting to be seen, wanting Levi to take what he’s so clearly fighting not to.
And Levi… Levi growls.
He actually growls.
It’s not a sound Erwin hears often. It’s deep, pulled from somewhere ancient, somewhere Levi usually keeps locked down, under control.
Then, without a human word spoken, he begins undressing too—pulling off his shirt, unbuckling his belt, stepping out of his trousers, shedding each layer with the same urgency as before. More clothes hit the floor while Levi barely looks away from Erwin for more than a second at a time, as though he can’t stand the thought of breaking eye contact.
When he’s finally naked as well—his huge cock hard and throbbing, actually throbbing—he moves back toward Erwin with purpose, with hunger. With the kind of focus that makes Erwin’s breath catch in his throat, as Levi drops back onto his knees, breathing hard, eyes fixed on Erwin’s cock, on his balls. His hands are still on Erwin’s hips, thumbs stroking absent circles into sensitive skin, but the way he touches him is different now—hungrier, more focused, like he’s barely holding back.
“Lift your hips,” Levi murmurs, and Erwin does, helpless under the weight of that voice. Levi drags him even closer to the edge of the bed, closer to his own body, to his face. Levi’s hands glide up Erwin’s sides again, slow but trembling, tracing every curve, every line. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he whispers, leaning in to breathe him in again, mouth brushing over Erwin’s inner thigh, his lower stomach, anywhere his lips can reach without fully giving in yet. “Your scent… fuck, Erwin, you smell like you want to be taken apart.”
Erwin’s breath goes uneven. He feels the mattress tilt as Levi shifts his grip, strong hands sliding up his thighs, stopping just beneath the back of the knee. And then Levi lifts. Firmly and controlled. Guiding Erwin’s legs up and apart, settling him right at the edge of the bed. And Erwin gasps at the sudden openness of the position, the way he’s spread right in front of Levi’s face, the way his alpha’s breath ghost over his moist hole—at the way Levi holds him as though he’s something he wants to devour and protect at the same time.
“Levi…?” Erwin manages, voice thin, unsure, because he’s never been held like this, never been arranged like this, never felt this kind of vulnerable need gathering low and tight inside him.
Levi doesn’t answer at first. His focus is absolute. He adjusts his knees on the floor, hands sliding just a little further up the backs of Erwin’s thighs to support the weight, spreading him even wider with slow, deliberate pressure. He looks up once—pupils huge, his manly jaw clenched with desire that nearly has him snapping in two—and that alone sends a rush of heat straight through Erwin.
Straight through his cock.
It feels strange—being exposed like this, lifted and open in Levi’s hands—but it feels good, too. Wrong and right at the same time. Intense. Overwhelming. Instinctive. His omega biology is already pressing against his ribs, urging him to let Levi take whatever he wants.
“Levi,” he whispers again, and this time there’s no question in it—just want. And Levi? Levi lowers his head—and dives right in.
No hesitation, no warning, no waiting.
Just that movement, just this advance, burying his face between Erwin’s thighs. Not going for his balls, not going for his cock, but straight for his asshole. And the first touch of Levi’s tongue there is…
“Oh my God…!” Erwin gasps, fingers digging into the bedding underneath his naked, trembling body as Levi—his alpha—drags his tongue across his entrance. Slowly. Tantalisingly so. Warm. Wet. “Oh God…” Erwin’s whole body jolts, his fingers clutching the sheets tighter. Surprise floods him—white-hot, breath-stealing. Because this sensation is like nothing he’s ever felt.
Too intimate, too shocking, too good.
It sends pleasure spiking through him so sharply that his eyes slam shut. And Levi doesn’t stop, just chuckles at Erwin’s reaction, tone low, his hands anchoring Erwin’s hips as though he doesn’t want to let him escape, no matter what may come next.
Then his mouth returns—hot, wet and devastatingly focused. He delivers lick after lick over Erwin’s rim with precision, with an eerie sense of calm, with a desperately slow tempo and yet with enough pressure to make Erwin twitch and gasp at the sensation that every single broad stroke of Levi’s tongue across his entrance unleashes.
“Fuck…!” Erwin breathes out, lungs aching from all the air he’s been holding in. “...fuck!”
Levi rewards him with a sloppy, wet kiss directly to his hole. Then another. And another.
He drags the flat of his tongue across the tight ring of muscle next, then circles it—teasing, spiraling inward, tasting every inch, licking up every drop of slick that keeps oozing out. Because those flood gates? They’ve already opened up. Completely. The lust and arousal and excitement too much on Erwin’s body, all of his omega instincts screaming for more and more and more and, “Levi…!”
The alpha pushes the very tip of his tongue inside—just enough to make Erwin jolt and whimper. The omega can barely think at this point; his mind is a mess of heat and instinct and disbelief that Levi is doing this to him, for him, with such deep hunger it makes Erwin’s whole world shake.
He hadn’t expected this.
He hadn’t even imagined it.
And now he can’t imagine wanting anything else.
The pleasure keeps building, climbing, coiling tighter, until Erwin is half lost in it—legs shaking, chest rising too fast, soft sounds spilling from him he can’t hold back. And Levi keeps rimming him, with slow, insistent strokes; his searingly hot and wet tongue curling against his fluttering ring just right, pressing inward and retreating, over and over again. Until Erwin’s whole body is trembling with overstimulated heat. His hips start to roll ever so lightly in a slow, helpless motion, seeking more—anything.
It feels weird and intense and far too good, all at once. Like he’s falling apart from the inside out, like Levi is taking him somewhere he has never been but desperately wants to go.
“Please…” Erwin hears himself whimper. He doesn’t even know what he’s beginning for. And it doesn’t matter.
Levi keeps licking him, keeps taking him apart with his lips and tongue, fucking him shallowly with it. He’s lapping, humming, breathing into him, until Erwin’s thighs are shaking and he’s gasping, twitching, nearly coming untouched, his hard cock nearly aching from all the arousal filling it up with boiling blood.
Only then does Levi stop. Only then does he give in. Only then does he get up.
Erwin doesn’t know what’s happening, but lets Levi proceed anyways, lets the alpha drag him across the sheets to the middle of the bed, lets him climb over him, lets himself be claimed by those wet lips that have just touched his most intimate part. And even though it should be disgusting, obscene—abhorrent—having Levi kiss him with lips smeared with his very own slick, lips that have just tasted his asshole, Erwin’s kissing back ferociously. Until they are forced to take a break, to calm their breathing.
When Erwin opens his eyes, he’s nearly blown away again. For Levi’s are pure hunger—blown, dark, dangerous.
“You’re beautiful,” Levi says, the words quick and harsh, like he didn’t mean to say them out loud. “Fucking beautiful. And you smell—” his voice cracks. “You smell like… mine.”
A shiver rolls through Erwin so strong it nearly arches his back. He spreads his legs wider without thinking. Instinct. Invitation.
Levi draws in a sharp breath.
He lowers himself bit by bit, lining their bodies together, keeping pressure off Erwin’s belly like it’s automatic now, second nature. His hands plant on either side of Erwin’s ribs; his forehead drops to Erwin’s shoulder for a moment, like he needs the contact to steady himself.
“Erwin,” he whispers, and it’s not a warning—it’s a plea.
Erwin lifts a shaky hand and cups Levi’s cheek, fingers brushing the soft skin just below his eye. Levi leans into the touch like he’s starving for it.
“Come here,” Erwin breathes out.
Levi obeys instantly.
He presses forward, pressing their bodies together again. His mouth finds Erwin’s neck, open and hungry, kissing, dragging his teeth across his skin lightly, following the beat of Erwin’s pulse, making the blond gasp, fingers digging into Levi’s shoulders. His whole body feels like it’s vibrating. His omega instincts are burning under his skin, clawing at him from the inside, desperate to be touched, claimed, desperate to be taken.
Levi pulls back just enough to look at him—wild, panting, primitive need written across every line of his face.
“Erwin,” he rasps again, voice low, barely human now, “tell me you want this.”
He doesn’t need to. It’s written all over him. It’s in every shiver, every breath, every instinct-driven roll of his hips. But Erwin says it anyway, soft and true and shaking:
“I want you.”
Something breaks in Levi then—cleanly, beautifully.
He moves before Erwin can even catch his breath, reaching past him, grabbing the nearest pillow, and shoving it beneath Erwin’s lower back. Erwin’s body lifts easily into the adjustment; Levi fits the pillow where he wants it, fixes the angle, tests it with a press of his palm like he’s making sure Erwin is exactly where he needs him.
“Levi—” Erwin manages, but his voice breaks on nothing.
Levi doesn’t answer. He’s focused. Aroused. His pheromones flare—sharp, hot, and irresistible—and Erwin’s breath catches hard in his throat. Then, Levi’s hands return—firm on Erwin’s thighs, sliding down to the backs of them before lifting them up. Guiding. Spreading. Not roughly, but decisively in a way that leaves Erwin dizzy anyways.
The air goes hot. Heavy. Charged.
Levi settles between his legs, aligning himself with deliberate precision. His eyes drag over Erwin; down his chest, his stomach, lower. Calm—but hungry, and feral, too. His pupils blown wide. The scent pouring off him spikes again, thick and intoxicating, and Erwin’s whole body reacts, arching into Levi without thinking.
“Fuck…” Erwin whispers, his voice barely audible.
Because Levi isn’t holding back anymore—not his scent, not the need rolling off him, not the way he looks at Erwin like he’s starving and Erwin is the only thing in the room worth devouring. It sends a shock through him, straight to the bone, collapsing every coherent thought he has left.
Then, spreading Erwin’s thighs just a little wider, Levi moves forwards, pressing against him—and then pushes inside. And Erwin swears he can hear the bulbous head of Levi’s grand cock pop through his distinctive ring of muscles, spreading him open in a different place now, sliding his thick and long and so-very-hard length further inside.
“Oh God!” Erwin pants and his head snaps back against the pillows, as slight pain of this invasion races through his system, paired with a blissful feeling he has no adequate name for, Levi’s groan, as the alpha sinks deeper into Erwin’s slick hole, making his skin prickle and his own dick throb.
Levi’s slow, but persistent, focused. Unstoppable.
Fingers digging more forcefully into Erwin’s thighs, he forces his way in, inch by agonising inch, the light swell of Erwin’s belly rising and falling with each ragged breath he takes, brushing against Levi's abdomen as he—finally—bottoms out.
His heavy balls press flush against Erwin’s ass, the alpha’s hips grinding just a little bit more forward to bury every last bit of his throbbing length inside Erwin’s wet and wide and hot walls that clench around that alpha cock by instinct, sucking him in, holding him there, begging for the knot already.
“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Levi rasps, voice rough with lust, his hands clamping down on Erwin’s thighs to hold them splayed wide. He pulls back slowly, watching his shaft emerge glistening with Erwin’s slick, before slamming back in with a wet smack. Erwin’s body jolts, his swollen cock leaking precum onto his rounded belly, the omega’s hole fluttering around the invasion.
He wants to say something, anything, Levi’s name probably. But what emerges is nothing coherent. Nothing close to human speech. Because Levi’s not holding back, not giving Erwin time to adjust, not checking in a final time.
Instead, the alpha’s moving his hips, setting up a brutal rhythm, pounding into Erwin relentlessly, each of his powerful thrusts driving his huge cockhead against that sweetest spot deep inside of Erwin, making the omega’s vision blur with colourful sparks of pure pleasure.
His body’s rocking with the force, nipples hard and begging for attention—just like his cock is, jumping up and down with the sheer force of Levi’s thrusts, out of control, out of grasp. Slick gushes out around Levi’s pistoning dick, dripping down to soak the bed, the obscene squelch of flesh meeting flesh filling the room.
And Levi just fucks him harder, faster, rougher. With a growl in his throat.
The beautiful, dangerous pressure starts building, coiling tightly in Erwin’s gut, his hole spasming wildly around the alpha’s massive cock as the orgasm comes closer, threatening to crash over him.
Erwin can’t hold himself together anymore. His whole body is trembling, straining, yielding under Levi’s rhythm. Every thrust knocks the air out of his lungs, forces out helpless, broken and utterly pathetic sounds. His hands scrabble uselessly at the sheets before flying up to brace against Levi’s arms, grasping for something, anything, to hold onto as the pleasure’s tearing through him.
His scent spikes violently, instinctively, a raw flood of heat and want pouring off him. It sends Levi into a deeper frenzy—Erwin can sense it, can feel the shift, the answering hunger—but gods, it only drives him closer. Too close.
“Levi—” he gasps, or tries to, but his voice fractures mid-way, dissolving into a high, breathless moan. His thighs are shaking in Levi’s grip, and the coil in his belly is tightening so fast he’s terrified and desperate at the same time, overwhelmed by the sheer force of it.
His vision blurs. His ears ring. His chest feels too small, too tight to hold everything happening inside him. Levi leans over him, breath hot against Erwin’s chest, and that’s all it takes for something inside Erwin to break open. He claws at Levi’s shoulders, dragging him down, choking on the way it feels to be opened like this, to be wanted like this, to be taken like this by the man he loves. Every nerve is buzzing, every muscle tight, every breath a stuttered plea.
“Levi—Levi, I’m—”
It comes out strangled. Shaking. Barely a sound at all.
His whole body is begging.
His slick is dripping.
His heart is hammering.
His climax is right there, right at the edge, a tidal wave he cannot stop.
It hits him all at once.
There’s no warning—just a violent, electric snap as Levi grinds in deep and something inside Erwin gives out. His back arches off the bed, his head slamming back, his jaw going slack, Erwin’s mouth falling wide open, as he’s releasing an elongated sound that’s close to mewling and screaming, his whole body tightening around Levi as the pleasure detonates through him.
His orgasm tears him open.
Bright. Blinding. Shattering.
Erwin can’t breathe. Can’t think. He curls forward and backward at the same time, his muscles locking up, hands clawing for Levi’s shoulders.
He’s shaking.
Erwin’s gone.
He’s never come like this in his life; thick ropes of thick cum splattering across his pregnant stomach, clenching down so hard that Levi hisses through his teeth.
Another pulse hits, then another, ripping through him in sharp, glorious bursts that make Erwin’s vision go white at the edges. His thighs tremble in Levi’s grip, trembling harder when Levi holds him open and keeps moving, coaxing every last drop of pleasure out of him.
“Levi—” He tries, but it isn’t a word anymore. Just a desperate sound of a desperate man falling apart.
Heat rolls through him again, overwhelming, consuming, and Erwin’s fingers dig into Levi’s skin like he’s trying to hold on to dear life. His climax doesn’t taper—it surges, again and again, each aftershock hitting so hard his breath tightens and then breaks, and Levi is right there, still inside him, still moving, still holding him open, still driving those waves higher, still drilling his huge and hard cock into his channel.
And Erwin keeps coming.
Hard and fast and unbearably extreme.
And even when the peak finally starts to ebb, his body won’t let go—still clenched, still trembling, still desperate, still pulling Levi closer in broken, instinctive pulses.
Erwin has never felt anything so good.
So consuming.
So utterly beyond him.
Without warning, Levi suddenly shifts back, pulling himself out, his huge and still trembling, wet cock sliding out of Erwin’s mess completely. The omega doesn’t even have the chance to blink, to ask, to begin to understand what’s happening, until it’s already done. Until he’s flipped onto his side, top leg lifted up by a clammy, strong hand, spreading him open once again—and Levi immediately thrusts back inside, chasing his own release, rutting into him like an animal, his huge erection drilling into Erwin like a machine, like a beast, like a primal mixture of both.
Powerful and terrifying and devastatingly arousing.
It plunges Erwin straight into the territory of overstimulation, the shift so abrupt that Erwin’s body can’t keep up. His nerves are still on fire from the orgasms that have just torn through him, and that new angle sends a shockwave of sensation straight through his spine. The thrust of Levi’s hips—the power of his gigantic, alpha cock pistoning into his hole—rocks him across the mattress, jostling him with a rhythm his sexually overexhausted body can’t predict.
His muscles seize and flutter without his permission. Erwin’s breath hiccups. His fingers are clawing at the sheets again, desperate for something solid to hold onto. He wants to pull away. His body’s begging for it—instinctively trying to twist from the intensity, the near-painful and utterly tickling brightness of nerves firing all at once. While a different part of him wants to push himself back, meet his alpha’s wicked, forceful thrusts, Levi’s cock firing straight into his sensitive prostate.
It’s too much and not enough at the same time; a frantic and frankly impossible contradiction.
The mattress dips and creaks with every impact, sending Erwin sliding forward a fraction and then pulled backward by Levi’s hold, caught in a helpless back-and-forth motion that leaves him breathless and gasping. His thighs tremble violently. His stomach tightens. His toes curl, then uncurl. A strange, breathless laugh almost bubbles out of him—half-plea, half-panic—because it tickles, it burns, it overwhelms, it devours.
He wants it to stop. He wants it to never end. He wants both at the same time.
He’s caught in it—pinned between the instinct to flee the sensation and the instinct to surrender to it completely. And the contradiction itself becomes a kind of ecstasy, dizzying and hot and terrifyingly good.
Then, suddenly, Levi’s forceful rhythm falters—just barely, just for a heartbeat—but enough for Erwin to feel it, register it, understand it. The stutter of Levi’s hips, the sharp tremor running through the body pressed so tightly against his back, the low, ragged noise caught in the alpha’s throat before it spills out in a guttural, desperate sound.
“Erwin—”
Levi’s voice isn’t human.
He’s wholly turned into the beast within him, his chest pressed tightly against Erwin’s spine, his breath scorching a path up the back of Erwin’s neck, the heat of it almost painful in its intensity.
Levi groans again, louder this time, right against Erwin’s shoulder blade. His teeth scrape lightly over his skin, sending a violent shiver down Erwin’s entire body. Then, his pheromones erupt. Like a volcano spewing not ash, but straight bright hot lava into the air, into Erwin’s skin, into his lungs and guts, the heat melting his dick, melting his hole, all of his sweet spots on fire; a beautiful and tragic concoction of pleasure and pain and flames.
Levi’s spiked scent hits Erwin like a physical force, knocking the air out of his lungs. It’s dominant, wild, soaked in a pleasure that borders on violent.
The smoke becomes suffocating, thick enough to burn, the leather, raw and punishing, each element enhanced, thickened, flooding Erwin and leaving no room for anything else. His eyes roll back, a strangled gasp ripping from him because he can’t handle it, he can't handle the way it sears through him, the way it clamps around every nerve ending and squeezes down on them. Erwin’s drunk on it. Completely, deliciously intoxicated. Inebriated. Addicted. Unable to escape it. Not that he’d even want that.
Levi’s hand—his free one—slides up Erwin’s chest with shaking fingers, then pushes down over his sternum, holding him tightly like that, pinning him in place as another ragged groan bursts from his throat. His entire body trembles behind Erwin, every muscle drawn taut.
“Erwin, fuck….Erwin….!” Levi snarls, every repetition of his name lower, rougher, needier, even more primal.
Levi is losing himself. And Erwin is losing any chance of staying sane.
The scent thickens again—hotter, sweeter, almost dizzying. Levi’s breath hitches, breaks, then spills out in a rough, guttural sound Erwin has never heard from him before. His fingers dig into Erwin’s chest, hard enough to leave marks, holding him together even as he comes undone behind him.
Erwin feels it—Levi’s whole body pulling tight, shaking, right on the edge of release. The tension comes off him in waves, too strong to fight, and Erwin can’t do anything but take it. He’s pinned, mind slipping, breath quick and messy. Every instinct in him screams to submit, to yield, to take everything Levi is about to give him.
Levi collapses forward—shaking, snarling against Erwin’s shoulder, voice shredded and barely recognizable.
“Erwin—I’m—”
His scent detonates. Not spikes—detonates. Heat and smoke and danger exploding around them like a bomb thrown into chaos. Erwin barely registers the warning before it’s too late.
Levi is just about to cum.
“Fuck!” the alpha roars, animal-deep, claws raking over Erwin’s chest as his grip on him tightens, locking Erwin down, trapping him in a hold so primal it short-circuits Erwin’s entire brain.
Levi’s knot swells—instantly, violently—with no mercy. One heartbeat it’s normal; the next it’s forcing Erwin open wider than he thought possible, stretching him until pleasure and pain blur into one overwhelming sensation.
It hits every pleasure point.
At once.
Brutally.
“Fuck!” Levi bellows again as his hips slam forward in one final, harsh, claiming thrust, burying himself to the hilt; and then the alpha breaks—and comes like a fucking explosion.
Erwin feels the first blast of heat hit him before he even hears himself moan. Then another. And another. Violent, pulsing streams of Levi’s seed flooding him so hard his whole body trembles around it. And he feels it. Deeply. Every twitch of Levi’s cock. Every swell and grind of that monstrous knot locked inside him. Every shaking breath Levi drags against his spine.
Erwin is, once again, gone.
The pleasure takes and tears him apart. His body convulses helplessly, dry-arching into another orgasm he can’t stop, can’t soften, can’t even understand. His vision goes white. His hands clawing uselessly at the mattress. He’s shaking, drooling, gasping like he’s drowning in Levi’s scent. Because he is. And Levi’s voice—filthy, ruined, worshipping—is the only thing keeping him conscious.
“Mhmmm… yeah, that’s it… cum for me again… you’re so fucking horny you can’t stop, can you…? Let it out… let me feel it… fuck, you’re mine.”
And Erwin can’t help it. Can’t stop the whines, the shaking, the dizziness. It almost takes him to the deepest pits of darkness.
For a moment—a long, dark, swaying moment—nothing exists except heat and pressure and Levi’s scent crushing down on him like a storm he has no hope of surviving. His body is still twitching, still convulsing around the knot wedged so deeply inside him it should hurt. His mind is blank, completely wiped blank, floating in a thick, warm fog that feels like bliss and delirium, all at once. He tries to breathe. Fails. Tries again. Fails even harder.
He’s too full.
Too stretched.
Too taken.
And it feels good.
The knot pulses once—heavily—and Erwin gasps so sharply it sounds like a sob, his entire body clamping down instinctively, helplessly. It sends another dizzying rush spiralling all the way through him, a searing wave of pleasure that burns everything in its way.
His thoughts melt.
His bones melt.
Erwin melts.
He’s distantly aware that he’s drooling against the sheets. That he’s whining again. That he’s trembling so hard the bed feels as if it was shaking with him.
But it’s all far away. The haze won’t let him reach it.
Levi’s scent wraps around him. Each inhale sinks him deeper, pulls him under, holds him suspended in that perfect, blissful place where time doesn’t exist and pleasure doesn’t fade away. His alpha’s hot breath ghosts over his spine. Erwin tries to speak; what comes out is a broken sound, soft and high and utterly wrecked. Levi answers with a low, guttural noise—and his hand slides over Erwin’s chest again, palm flat, fingers trembling as he holds him close.
The knot tightens once more—a thick, involuntary pulse and Erwin folds around it, a shudder tearing through him so violently he has to grab the sheets again just to stay grounded. His toes curl. His thighs shake.
He’s trapped.
And he’s safe.
And he’s so, so deeply gone.
His body sinks into Levi’s hold, pliant and open, every muscle loose from exhaustion and pleasure. His pulse steadies just a little. His breaths deepen, the edges of the world return in gentle, fuzzy shapes.
But the knot stays.
Hot. Insistent. Firm.
Erwin blinks, dazed, drunk on scent and sensation, and barely manages a whisper:
“…Levi…?”
Levi noses at the back of his neck, breath still ragged, voice a ruined rasp.
“Still here,” he murmurs. “Not going anywhere.”
And Erwin—Erwin lets go again, sinking deeper into the haze, letting Levi’s scent and weight and warmth hold him together while his mind drifts.
He’s never felt anything like this.
He’s not sure he’ll ever come back the same.
For a long moment, there’s only comfortable darkness. Just breathing, trembling, and that absolute heat. The weight of Levi’s chest against his back. The heavy pulse of his huge knot, still locking them together, still deep enough inside him that Erwin can barely think past the fullness that still emits that ground-breaking pleasure which travels in a mellow, and yet still intense way, through his body, through his core.
Eventually, Levi shifts.
A tiny, shaky exhale against Erwin’s spine. Then another. His hand slides from Erwin’s chest to his waist, thumb tracing small, absent-minded circles. Erwin starts to shift too.
“Easy,” Levi murmurs—still wrecked, but no longer feral. “Just… breathe, sweetheart.”
And Erwin does. He tries.
The haze begins to thin.
Levi’s knot—still firm, still thick—starts to soften too, each small deflation a gentle pressure shift inside of Erwin’s hottest place. Weird and comfortable at the same time.
“…good,” Levi whispers. “It’s coming down.”
Erwin swallows. Nods. When Levi can finally slide out, it’s slow. Careful. His hand stays on Erwin’s hip the whole time, and Erwin practically folds into the mattress, weak, trembling, slick everywhere, Levi’s cum pooling out of his ass and onto the sheets, and he finds himself unable to lift his body even a tiny bit.
Levi doesn’t leave. Not even for a second. He sits up, drags the blanket aside, wipes Erwin clean with shaking hands and soft touches that make the omega’s throat grow tight. When he’s done, he tucks Erwin beneath the duvet, then crawls in next to him, pulling him close, guiding Erwin’s head to his chest like this is instinct, like this is where Erwin belongs, still ever so careful to keep Erwin on his side, his belly only slightly pressing into Levi’s.
Erwin melts into him without thinking, cheek pressed over Levi’s heartbeat, his hands curling lightly at his waist. Levi’s scent is still thick in the air, but calm now—warm smoke, dark leather, soft amber.
“Levi…” Erwin whispers, meaning nothing and everything at once.
Levi hums, stroking a thumb along Erwin’s cheekbone. “You okay?”
Erwin nods against his skin. “Yeah. Just… full of you.” A shaky laugh escapes him. “God.”
Levi kisses the top of his head. “Good.”
He could drift off like this, any second now—but something stirs inside Erwin, tugging him upward, pulling him out of this new, languid haze.
The urge.
It blooms low in his chest—hot, urgent, and undeniable. He lifts his head. Looks Levi in the eyes. “Levi,” he breathes. “I don’t want to wait anymore.”
Levi blinks. His brows knitting together. “Wait for… what?”
Erwin’s heart thuds once, hard. “I want to bond with you.”
A beat of silence. Then Levi’s voice cracks. “…now?”
Erwin nods, slowly but firmly. “Now. Unless you’re not sure—”
“I am sure.” Levi cuts him off instantly, his voice too fast, too loud, too desperate. His hand cups Erwin’s jaw, thumb brushing his cheek gently. “I’m sure. I want this. I’ve always wanted this. I just—” His voice drops, almost sheepishly. “I wasn’t expecting us to do it here. Now. What about the ceremony? Isabel was so fucking excited to plan something for us.”
“She still can,” Erwin murmurs, stroking Levi’s arm. “Bonding ceremonies always happen after the actual bond, you know that. She’ll just have less time to prepare.” A soft smile. “Do you really care about that?”
Levi snorts, shaking his head. “Yeah, fuck, actually no.”
Erwin’s smile widens. “Then what’s stopping us?”
Levi looks at him for a long moment, the smile on his face soft, unyielding. “Nothing,” he finally admits quietly. “But Erwin… are you sure? Really sure? I need to hear it. I always need to hear it.”
And that—that—makes something warm and grateful unfurl in Erwin’s chest.
Levi, who just fucked him into oblivion. Levi, who nearly broke apart in his arms. Levi, who shook and snarled and lost himself. That Levi still stops. Still asks. Still makes absolutely sure.
Erwin cups his cheek again, gentler this time. “I want this,” he says, steady now, certain. “I want you. I want us. Bond with me. Please. Now.”
Levi breathes out like the world just settled back into place.
“Okay,” he whispers. “Okay. Then… let’s do it.”